A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Encrid placed his hand on the sword grip and steadied his breath.

The front, the tip, the forefront—whatever you called it, it was the very front.

Thus, the large-scale battlefield emerged.

It was flat enough to be called a plain.

They anticipated the cavalry’s charge.

No, anyone could foresee such a thing.

That’s why it was madness to come out like this.

The enemy would surely wonder if there were any sane people on this side.

They didn’t expect the cavalry to charge right from the start, though.

Thud, thud, thud!

The ground trembled even though the cavalry was still far away.

Despite the rumbling sound shaking the earth, they were still quite a distance away, not close enough to start swinging swords yet. But they were fast. The gap was closing quickly.

The wildness of the horses, the dust raised by their hooves, the uniformly armed cavalry.

All of it was enough to instill fear.

“Oh? Are they happy to die?”

Rem, who had sharp eyes, said while looking at the approaching cavalry commander. He wore a helmet that covered his face, but could his expression be seen?

“Can you see that?”

“I can feel it clearly.”

Rem snorted.

Is the barbarian’s intuition just as fearsome as Jaxon’s?

Or is it simply a reflex that kicks in whenever someone underestimates him?

Anyway, Encrid felt something similar.

He estimated the number of charging cavalry. More than fifty.

The people standing here were himself, Rem, Ragna, Jaxon, and Audin.

He had pulled Finn, Dunbachel, and Esther back.

“I can fight too.”

Just before they came out, Dunbachel had protested, but it wasn’t something a beastkin who had followed Audin and returned with a broken head should say.

Her head was wrapped in bandages from her left ear to her forehead.

“Ho ho, sister. You almost died. If you want to go to heaven, just say the word. I’ll send you there right now.”

Dunbachel shut her mouth at Audin’s polite death threat. She had gotten hurt by being reckless while following Audin. Of course, he hadn’t planned to take her along even if she wasn’t injured.

“She’s too weak.”

Rem muttered beside him, leaving behind a promise to deal with her later.

Just because his usual attitude was light, didn’t mean his words were weightless.

Rem’s promise to deal with someone was, well, terrifying for the listener.

Dunbachel didn’t notice it at all, though.

Encrid cast aside his brief thoughts. The cavalry was now right in front of them. Thud, thud, thud, the ground shook as they ran, revealing their weapons.

They held their long, broad-bladed glaives diagonally toward the ground, gleaming in the sunlight. It was a weapon designed more for sweeping strikes than thrusting.

The blade was so bright.

Encrid thought that the bright sunlight and his sword blade went well together.

Then, it was time to use it.

Shing.

He drew his sword, gripping it with both hands and giving it a slight twist.

“Walls be damned!”

The leading figure of the approaching cavalry shouted.

Encrid employed the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique.

Valen Mercenary Sword Technique attack.

Eye Dazzle.

The terrifyingly sharp blade reflected his face like a mirror.

It reflected the sunlight directly into the enemy’s eyes, delivering a blinding glare.

“Ugh!”

The charging enemy raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sunlight, causing him to hesitate. Yet, the horse did not slow down, maintaining its charging speed.

Even so, the momentum seemed to falter.

Regardless of the sunlight, the approaching glaive’s broad blade cut through the air, aiming to cut through Encrid’s neck as well.

The broad spear blade slicing through the air at an angle.

Reflected sunlight, his fearsomely sharp sword, the enemy, the sun, the ground, the horse, the dust, the battlefield, the forefront.

In an instant, Encrid recalled everything around him, then let go of it all and immersed himself.

Forgetting himself and the world, leaving only the enemy and the sword.

As the incoming glaive blade approached, the Heart of Great Strength beat.

The courage gained from the Heart of the Beast kept him from blinking at the incoming spear blade, while his keen senses read the timing.

Thus, Encrid swung his sword vertically, striking the glaive blade.

Clang!

The crisp sound that echoed marked the beginning of everything.

The power of his well-trained muscles in both hands combined with the rare quality of his sword in perfect harmony.

Crack!

Facing the line of raised spear blades, Encrid shattered the first one.

There was no time to observe the shattered spear blade flying away. In a world where only the enemy, the sword, and himself existed, his only task was to swing the sword.

He struck down the incoming spear blades, sweeping them aside, deflecting them, and cutting through whenever a gap appeared.

Thud!

His blade sliced through the gap in the horse’s armor, severing its right foreleg.

Warm, hot blood flowed as the painful scream of the horse echoed.

The scream soon faded away, but the spear blades continued to come relentlessly. This was the nature of a cavalry charge. Once started, it couldn’t be stopped.

In Encrid’s mind, a world with only the sword, the enemy, and himself, Ragna’s words squeezed into the fleeting moment.

“When you get into the application of the Middle Sword Technique, you will train two forms of slashes.”

One would think to explain the effectiveness of the technique when training, but Ragna was not one to expect such things from.

“Lion Slash and Steel Slash.”

The explanation was crude, but Encrid understood it well.

Lion Slash didn’t mean to cut an actual lion, but to cut down a dynamic target like a charging lion in one stroke, and Steel Slash meant to cut through something solid and refined even if it was stationary.

Dynamic and solid, at first separately.

In time, it meant cutting through both at once.

“If you seek will, you must master both.”

Ragna’s final words left a deep impression, and he realized that the technique Ragna demonstrated before, called ‘Severance’, began with these two Middle Sword Technique slashes.

Encrid thought of the Lion Slash as he cut down the charging cavalry.

The traces of swordsmanship were imprinted in his mind. His body, responding with the Sense of Evasion, his hands, feet, and sword, cut through the charging cavalry.

Wham, thud, slash!

The simultaneous, chaotic noises brushed his ears.

The horse and cavalry, cut from head to foreleg, collapsed to the ground behind.

“Aaargh!”

The scream of the cavalryman who fell from his horse echoed. He was an unlucky cavalryman. His final scream was his death throes.

As he fell, he hit his head badly and died trembling all over.

Thus, the first charge had passed.

Of course, no one on Encrid’s side had died.

* * *

The cavalry’s horses were weapons in themselves. Facing a charging horse head-on?

A Giant or a Frog might pull off such a stunt.

But really, is that a smart move?

Even if you stop one horse, what about the ones charging in right behind it?

If being crushed under the weight of a horse and its armor is your hobby, that might be a good method.

That’s right. Usually, facing a cavalry charge head-on is madness.

No matter how confident you are, that’s just how it is. So, what about these people?

Marcus watched those reacting to the enemy’s cavalry charge.

Starting with Encrid deflecting the blade, to the largest soldier.

Thanks to his size, he was the first to catch Marcus’s eye.

‘Was his name Audin?’

A devout soldier who begins his day with prayer.

And yet, a soldier who can beat to death any human, beast, or monster.

He faced the cavalry charge head-on. He deflected the charging spear blade with a short club the length of his forearm, then caught the horse’s head with his palm and twisted it aside.

Is it even possible to deflect a blade like that?

And can you really change the direction of a charging horse with just arm strength?

Neigh!

Changing the direction wasn’t the end of it. With that one move, the horse collapsed sideways helplessly. Accepting the full force of the charge and diverting it to the side, Marcus was beyond impressed, he was astonished.

‘This doesn’t make sense.’

It was an incredible feat. In truth, Marcus couldn’t see it clearly, but Audin hadn’t even struck the blade directly.

He hit the spear shaft at the exact joint.

The enemy cavalryman had connected the spear shaft to a hole at the back of the saddle, holding it in the middle to brace it. That was the core tactic, matching the charging speed to the cutting method.

Audin didn’t back down at all against that.

The devout bear who had taken down one cavalryman then dodged the next incoming spear blade by ducking his head and struck the head of the third horse with his club.

Bang!

This time, the horse died without a scream. Its head, armored and all, burst open, splattering blood. Amidst this, Audin smiled kindly, but Marcus still couldn’t see even that.

Audin wasn’t the only one standing out. If he was the beginning, the next was the axe-wielding madman.

“Hooah!”

With a shout, Rem struck the glaive’s blade with his axe blade. Strangely, the axe blade and the spear blade stuck together and wouldn’t come apart. Then, as if entangled in vines, he clung to the spear blade, seemingly pushed back with the horse, but soon showed an amazing skill.

In that pushed-back position, he grabbed the middle of the spear shaft, stepped on the horse’s head, and climbed onto the cavalryman.

Marcus couldn’t understand how that even worked, watching it.

In truth, it required speed and reaction time faster than the cavalryman, plus a ridiculous amount of brute strength.

Crack!

From above, he delivered the axe blade to the cavalryman’s head.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

As he moved sideways to the next horse, one of the cavalrymen tried to draw his estoc from his waist.

The estoc was a rapier designed exclusively for thrusting.

Before the cavalryman could even draw it, his shoulder was cut.

It was a magical sight created by the axe blade shining like a flash.

Rem killed two cavalrymen that way and rolled to the ground.

Remarkably, he avoided the horses’ hooves and rolled to the side.

To Marcus, it was incomprehensible and bewildering.

It was no different from an acrobatic performance you might occasionally see in the central city.

Encrid also stood out. He shattered the first approaching spear blade with sheer force, then cut down the next, and the next. The way he cut through the horses and cavalrymen whole in one sweeping motion might seem brute force, but it was also a breathtaking sight to behold.

Beside him, Ragna showed similar movements.

The difference was that Ragna used subtle stabs and feints with his sword to nullify the cavalry charge, rather than the bold, sweeping strikes of Encrid.

It was equally impressive.

The weighty strikes Encrid displayed, smashing through the cavalry charge, were exhilarating and satisfying to watch.

One person didn’t even appear, but what did that matter?

No one cared about him.

The important thing was this:

The cavalry had charged, but on the charging side, dozens of cavalrymen had disappeared, while those who were the targets of the charge were unharmed.

The blood of the horses and cavalrymen stretched out on the ground.

The blood from the dead cavalrymen was left behind by the horses that continued to run. Those with burst heads or cleaved bodies left a stream of blood on the ground.

The dust raised by the hooves mingled with the blood, appearing red.

Seeing all this, Marcus’s mouth opened.

“Lieutenant.”

“Yes.”

“Who gathered them together?”

The lieutenant recited what he knew from his investigation.

“The former Battalion Commander.”

“That bastard actually did something useful.”

The former Battalion Commander probably hadn’t intended for this situation.

He likely intended to gather troublemakers who caused various problems, such as assaulting superiors, into one unit and use them as meat shields or for expendable operations to gain some advantage.

That bastard enjoyed taking credit for the achievements of his subordinates, so he probably thought that if they fought and died, it would become his own accomplishment.

Too troublesome to dismiss but too problematic to keep, they were to be used as disposable tools.

Indeed, his plan was to use them as throwaway pawns.

‘And then Encrid joined them and made it work.’

Marcus, the politician, recognized the origin of this Problematic Squad from his seat.

Yes, the former Battalion Commander was a bastard and hadn’t intended it, but…

“What’s done is done. I almost feel like awarding him a medal.”

Bringing them together and making Encrid their Squad leader was a masterstroke.

Look at them, isn’t it marvelous?

While Marcus felt amazement, the commander of the enemy unit that had ordered the charge was dumbfounded.

Under the command of the Viscount’s Army of Bentra, he led the cavalry unit that cut down infantry.

He had no choice but to halt. He had to take the stance of finishing the charge and wheeling around. He had to reorganize his formation since twelve out of fifty were dead.

That he survived? Pure luck.

If he had been within their range, he would have been dead.

The commander saw the blade that had passed him by.

He also saw the man wielding the sword in front of him.

The name was Encrid. He had first heard that name in some fanciful tales stuck to a wall somewhere, full of ludicrous rumors.

‘That was just bluster.’

It was supposed to be just absurd rumors.

It was supposed to be a tactic to bluff and make this side retreat by inflating their reputation.

So, in this charge, they should have all been cut down into pieces of meat.

Is this a dream?

“What the hell is this?”

The commander said. For a moment, he almost lost his will to fight.

But he couldn’t afford to do that. The battle had just begun.

While wheeling around and forming up, he saw the remaining four.

He saw the blue eyes of a man with black hair wearing a roughly made helmet.

He seemed to be deep in thought. Then he saw him mumble something to the side. He couldn’t hear what he was saying.

Watching that, he steeled himself again.

Thud!

“Ugh!”

Suddenly, a blade thrust into his neck. It felt like someone had jabbed his neck with a torch. The fiery pain started from his neck and spread throughout his body. He froze in an instant.

“Commander!”

He heard his subordinate shout from behind. He tried to open his mouth, but no coherent words came out.

When your vocal cords are cut and your throat is pierced, that’s how it usually goes.

“Gurgle!”

Blood foamed at the commander’s mouth, and his head slumped to the side.

Cause of death: a stab to the neck.

The one who delivered that gift was Jaxon, a man with reddish-brown hair.

The noise faded. There was no more commotion. In the moment of surprise, while everyone watched, Jaxon calmly moved.

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